


catch me at the edge

by Padraigen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padraigen/pseuds/Padraigen
Summary: Written for the sentence prompt: "Shh, you're safe. I won't let you go."—“Tony?” he tried, his voice not much more than a croak. He cleared his throat. “Tony, what—?”“Shh,” Tony breathed, shifting again, his grip on Steve’s middle becoming more secure as he buried his head against the nape of Steve’s neck. “‘M sleeping.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 224
Collections: MCU Christmas Exchange





	catch me at the edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [only_more_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_more_love/gifts).



> Dear onlymorelove,
> 
> It was a pleasure writing this for you. I struggled for a good long while trying to figure out what to write, and eventually ended up writing for one of the sentence prompts you showed me (it was a bit late, so I'm sorry if the fic is sorta rushed).
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

_Bucky!_

Steve let out a choked sob, and his eyes flew open. Shivers wracked his body and for a few moments he couldn’t make sense of his surroundings. Images of his nightmare—his _memories_ —flashed through his mind like he was watching a film of the worst moments of his life, of a train, an unforgiving, icy ravine, and Bucky _falling, falling, falling_ …

God, he was _so cold_.

He twisted where he lay, feeling trapped by an unknown weight across his middle, and blinked against the darkness of the night. His vision blurred before sharpening into a clarity he was sure no other non-superhuman had ever possessed. The sight before him confused him for only a few seconds before he realized that he was tucked into a couch and was staring at the back of a leather cushion.

Where was he? How did he get here?

Something shifted against his back, the movement enough to startle him so much that his entire body tensed until he felt his shoulders twinge. Even still, the shivers didn’t stop.

“ _Mmm…_ ” A warm, damp gust of air hit the back of his neck. “...Steve?”

Steve could practically feel the racing of his heart relax inside his chest, his muscles unclenching with hardly a conscious thought.

It was only Tony.

His mind came back to him then, and he had enough clues to put together that he was in Tony’s workshop, on his couch. The workshop had no windows, but he would wager it was either very late at night or very early morning.

He remembered coming down here last night to ask Tony for assistance with a broken strap on his shield. Tony had been busy, had waved him to the couch with a “Just a minute,” and Steve had been content to wait. His eyes shut in embarrassment when he realized he must have fallen asleep on the couch, apparently much more ‘content’ than he would’ve thought. That didn’t really explain why Tony hadn’t just woken him up, though, or why Tony was laying there with him.

“Tony?” he tried, his voice not much more than a croak. He cleared his throat. “Tony, what—?”

“Shh,” Tony breathed, shifting again, his grip on Steve’s middle becoming more secure as he buried his head against the nape of Steve’s neck. “‘M sleeping.”

Steve shuddered as another gust of air hit the back of his neck. He was laying rigid, and he was freezing in a way that wasn’t at all reasonable, as if the chill from his dreams had followed him into the waking world. He seemed to only be in his undershirt. Where had his flannel gone? His belt? His shoes?

Nothing was making any sense.

Frigid air nipped at his fingertips, his toes. Iciness licked at his skin, a shocking contrast to the warmth of Tony’s body pressed against his, and his teeth chattered, his limbs going numb. He was imagining it, he had to be imagining it. He hadn’t been this cold since—since…

Panic clawed at him, unrelenting, and _God_ , he couldn’t do this now, not now, not with Tony _right there_.

He tried to close his eyes, to relax, but that proved a mistake when all he could see were flashes of his last moments with Bucky, of Bucky’s wild, terrified eyes, his desperate attempts to reach Steve, to just _hold on_.

Steve bit down on a strangled cry and tried not to thrash out. Even so, his distress garnered Tony’s attention, and he felt Tony sit up a bit.

“Steve?” he whispered. “Are you alright?”

Steve laid there silently for a few seconds, trying to get himself under control. Finally, he simply muttered, “Cold.” He almost hoped that Tony wouldn’t hear him.

He did.

“ _Shit_.” Tony loosened his hold on Steve’s waist and demanded, “JARVIS, turn up the heat.” And then he stood up.

Steve was reaching out before he could consciously approve of the movement, his hand snatching up Tony’s wrist before Tony could so much as take a step. “Don’t go,” Steve mumbled, too earnest. He dropped Tony’s wrist immediately, embarrassed by his own honesty.

A startled silence hung in the air. Steve had his head turned, but he could sense Tony’s eyes on him. He was about to stutter out an apology, but suddenly Tony was right there again, saying, “I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. I’m just gonna grab a blanket for us real quick, and then I’ll come right back.”

Steve grimaced. “You don’t have to—”

“ _I’ll come right back_ ,” Tony repeated, his voice brooking no argument.

Steve let him go without further protest, feeling needy and self-conscious. He knew what it was like to sleep next to someone; he’d had to during the war when there were no other options. That was no excuse to have become dependent on it, though.

He curled up into himself, trying to stave off the unabating cold. He rocked back into the spot Tony had just vacated in a futile attempt to soak up the leftover heat. And he listened carefully for Tony’s return, refusing to close his eyes.

What felt like a lifetime but couldn’t have been more than a minute later, Tony came back as he’d promised, scooting Steve closer into the couch without a word. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he managed to shake out the thick comforter to cover both of them. Then his arm snuck up and around Steve’s chest, his hand coming to rest over Steve’s calming heart.

“Better?” he asked.

Steve hummed in response, pressing further back into Tony’s chest, wanting to feel enveloped by him no matter how ridiculous that sounded. No matter that Steve wasmuch bigger than Tony.

It took several minutes of Steve counting Tony’s breaths, every soft inhale and exhale, for him to work up the courage to ask, “What am I doing here, Tony?”

It was several moments more before Tony replied simply, “You fell asleep.”

“You could have woken me.”

“You could’ve not fallen asleep.”

Steve sighed, still staring into the darkness, but he couldn’t help the small smile pulling up the corners of his lips. “You at least should have headed to bed. It’s more comfortable than this, surely.”

“You’re more comfortable than you look, actually.” Tony’s voice held a teasing lilt, the same one he’d been using more and more around Steve lately. It made him feel warm inside, enough to actually start fighting back against the smothering chill. There was a lengthy pause, and then Tony said meaningfully, “Go to sleep, Steve.”

Steve swallowed, didn’t close his eyes. “Can’t,” he breathed, not at all surprised at the way his throat was closing up. “Tony, I—”

“You can.” Tony’s voice was soft but firm, and Steve froze when he felt Tony’s lips brush over the back of his neck, pressing against his skin in a gentle kiss. “I’m right here, Steve.”

The words sounded heavy, like an oath, and they made Steve shudder. He couldn’t even pretend that it was because of the cold, because the cold had started to melt right off his skin the moment Tony’s arm went around him.

So Steve closed his eyes, focused on Tony’s steady breathing, and went back to sleep, trusting that Tony would still be there come morning.

It was the most content sleep he’d had since before he crashed into the ice.

*

They didn’t discuss it in the morning, not the sleeping in the same space thing, nor the nightmares thing.

Steve was grateful that Tony didn’t push him to talk about it, at least not yet, and when he’d left the workshop with his shield intact—strap brand new—it was almost as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

Except whenever they crossed paths that day (which was a lot more often than usual), Tony always smiled at him, a knowing gleam in his eyes. He’d touch Steve more—a brush across his shoulders, a squeeze of his arm, a gentle nudge, a playful poke—and his teasing would hold none of its usual bite.

It was… nice.

But Steve was admittedly clueless at interacting with people when he’d ordinarily tried to keep them at arm's length. So Steve couldn’t bring himself to start treating Tony any differently than he had before, and he didn’t seek him out that night when he was supposed to go to sleep, even though he wanted to.

He wasn’t about to have Tony think he was relying on him, didn’t want to put that burden on anyone. He knew first-hand how it felt to have someone depend on you, and while he wouldn’t change that for anything, he didn’t want to trouble Tony.

He got in bed at 23:00 exactly, and lay there for hours, just staring up into the darkness. He fought off the drowsiness even as he knew he should welcome it. It was the same as always, ever since he’d awoken from the ice.

Except for last night. Last night had been different. Last night had been better.

He huffed at himself and pushed the silly thoughts from his head, turning over. It was a considerable mental struggle to turn down his brain enough for him to finally fall asleep, but eventually he managed it.

Like always, his dreams bled into nightmares, of the war, of Bucky, Peggy, the Howling Commandos, sometimes memories and sometimes occurrences that never really happened, the brutal spawnings of his overactive imagination.

Tonight was a familiar memory, of going down in the Valkyrie, of ice and snow and death and _cold_ getting closer, closer, _closer_ until he woke up with a hoarse cry.

And all of a sudden, there was a weight around his chest, holding him, tugging at him. A voice in his ear whispered, “Shh, you’re safe.” It was familiar, _so familiar,_ and Steve strained to hear it, to follow it out of his torment. “I won’t let you go.”

_I’m right here, Steve._

“Tony,” Steve gasped, opening his eyes.

“Mmm,” Tony affirmed. “I’ve got you, Steve.”

Relief surged through Steve, knowing Tony was there and had kept his promise, even though Steve had run away from it, hadn’t wanted to burden him.

Tony kept his promise every night after that, too, with his lips at the back of Steve’s neck, his arm around him like an anchor, his presence a buffer to the cold. Every time Tony smiled at him, something inside Steve chipped away and left him thinking that maybe he wasn’t a burden at all. That maybe Tony cared about him and wanted to look after him like Steve wanted to look after Tony.

And that… that was nice, too.

More than nice, really.

Exhilarating.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, and have a moment, I would really appreciate knowing your thoughts in the comments! Thank you very much :)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)!


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